Valentine's Day
by Hearts of Eternity
Summary: It's hard to celebrate a day dedicated to love when your lover doesn't buy into silly human customs. Luckily for Jazz, it's not the loving that Prowl is against- he just doesn't like working by someone else's calendar. He prefers to choose his own timing.


I don't actually celebrate Valentine's Day, but I figured it's a good excuse for gratuitous Jazz/Prowl robot sex. Not that anyone ever needs an excuse for that. I hope everyone enjoys the randomness. I figured it's been way too long since I've written something for this charming couple.

Enjoy the randomness!

**Valentine's Day**

Jazz did not put much stock in the concept of Valentine's Day.

He did not see what was so romantic about a couple of dead Christian martyrs variously named Valentine. Nor did he see what was so attractive about the current loosely associated day which was ruled by consumerism and pushed by capitalism. A day that was supposed to be dedicated to so-called "love" as humans understood it was instead focused on buying slag. A very materialistic conception, although who was Jazz to argue with it? He was new to the planet, give or take a couple years.

There were many global incarnations of Valentine's Day celebrated in different ways across the globe, but it seemed the majority of the concepts were seeded by major corporations looking to make extra money in foreign markets. That did _not_ scream romantic in any sense of the word for the saboteur.

There did happen to be other similar celebrations around Earth developed separately from the concept of Valentine's Day. Celebrations which were variously focused on friendship, loved ones, and lovers, and not so hopelessly driven into hollow husks of material insincerity. They were variously fascinating traditions which Jazz had taken great interest in while he researched them; he figured he was now an expert on human holidays dedicated to various forms of friendship, family, and lovers.

Unfortunately, many of those global traditions held no sway in the land he and his fellow Autobots currently called "home". The United States of America celebrated Valentine's Day with a consumerist-driven recklessness that bordered partially on psychotic... which was probably one of the more interesting things for Jazz to observe about the day, since nothing else was really catching his fancy.

Perhaps, if Jazz had been in possession of a lover more interested in observing certain Earth customs rather than writing reports alone in his stodgy office, the saboteur might have been more forgiving of Valentine's Day. Indeed, it was hard to deny a certain inclination to shirking duty in order to indulge in a little bit of lover's appreciation, but that always required an acquiescing lover. Any day of the year might have sufficed for a minor tryst in the middle of the day, but if there seemed a day that Optimus Prime might be more forgiving for mischief in the workplace, Valentine's Day seemed like the day.

As it stood, Prowl was far more interested in doing reports than he was of observing human customs. This left Jazz in his current predicament, which was sitting in his office contemplating if he should hack into the nearest satellite and broadcast the movies _My Bloody Valentine_, the original and the remake, over all the airwaves. He was sure that humans who disliked Valentine's Day as much as he did would appreciate the sentiment. And for those who did not appreciate it? Well, Jazz wasn't commander of Special Operations for nothing. No one would ever find out it was him.

However, mid-keystroke into getting started on his devious plans of _improving_ Valentine's Day over all the American airwaves, the chime to his office door rang. Without thinking of who it might be, Jazz bid the Autobot to enter. The flash of black and white that caught the corner of his optic was enough to have him jerk up. Prowl's appearance in the doorway surprised him thoroughly to the point that he did not immediately have a clever greeting to offer.

Prowl, as per the usual, was a calmly collected presence as he stepped into the room. He was among one of the most unflappable mechs Jazz had ever encountered, which served as one of the more attractive attributes Prowl was in possession of. The tactician's expression was mild, betraying none of his current thoughts. In his hand was a data pad, denoting that he had most likely come to Jazz on matters of business rather than pleasure. Not that Jazz was disappointed over such a thing. He knew what to expect of his lover, and surprises were not one of them. Jazz happened to be the spontaneous, wild one in the relationship, while Prowl happened to be... a steady, thoughtful, and quietly affectionate partner.

Knowing that about Prowl, it was immediately suspicious to watch him turn his back on Jazz without a word and proceed to input a locking sequence on the door he had just stepped through.

Jazz cocked an optic ridge. "Handling sensitive information?" he ventured, thinking of the data pad still perched in one of Prowl's hands. Locking the door would have been something Prowl would do if he was being particularly paranoid over any bit of information he was wanting to discuss.

"Not quite," Prowl replied, finishing with his work on the door and turning back to Jazz.

"Okay, then have a seat and tell meh what ya brought meh," replied Jazz, straightening in his seat, perfectly prepared for a serious discussion on some business matter or other. While he and Prowl were lovers in their off-hours, they were highly efficient commanding Autobot officers when they needed to be. He gestured to the free seat in front of his desk as an invitation for Prowl to sit.

Prowl considered the invitation, though declined with a tilt of his head. "This data pad you see here," he said, holding up said evidence with a mild wave to make sure Jazz focused on it, "is simply a distraction."

That being said, the data pad was then tossed to the side with a flick of the wrist. Jazz was so caught off guard that he ended up falling for the ridiculous trick. His optics followed the arc of the data pad as it flew through the air, hitting the far wall and clattering to the floor. The whole movement took less than a second to complete, but, of course, Prowl was a tactically-minded mech who liked to plan everything right down to the last detail. Long before Prowl had entered the office, he had calculated the velocity required to toss the data pad a certain distance to make it count for the sum total of time required for him to move from the centre of Jazz's office to the desk which laid between them.

By the time Jazz snapped his optics back front and center, it was too late to counter Prowl's plans. In one impressive sweep, the entire contents of Jazz's desktop scattered across the floor. Of course, the force and speed of the sweep were calculated down to the most minute detail; powerful enough to get the job done, but not enough to break anything valuable that might have been stored there. Prowl himself was suddenly braced on the desk by his knees, his expression still curiously mild as he stared down into Jazz's bewildered gaze.

"This is just a long shot here, but Ah'm gonna guess this isn't about business," the saboteur intoned.

"Correct, this meeting has nothing to do with business," Prowl replied, a crack in his neutral facade coming in the form of a smirk curving the corner of his mobile mouthplates. That was all the warning he gave before he pounced with the effectiveness of someone as well trained in circuit-su as he happened to be.

Jazz's world briefly turned into a kaleidoscope of black and white as he and his lover tumbled backwards. The fall did not hurt, which was probably due, again, to Prowl's careful calculations. It was not in his nature to be spontaneous. Even in the moments when it seemed like he was being spontaneous, it was merely the well-calculated appearance of it. They hit the floor amid a clatter of the chair and the colliding of their armour. Their chests pressed intimately together, Prowl superior weight forcing them together until there was nothing but air molecules and hot energy between them. They each felt the pulsing of the other's spark.

"This is unexpected," Jazz laughed, arms coming around Prowl's shoulders to draw the mech closer.

Prowl did not reply in words, but instead gained a look in his optics that caused Jazz to tense. The glacial shade of blue normally reflected in the tactician's gaze turned warm, intimate. There was no time to brace for impact before a powerful magnetic charge passed from the palms of Prowl's hands into Jazz's frame. It was so powerful that it bordered on the insane place between pain and pleasure; that teetering precipice that Jazz liked to play at most often.

He did not realize he cried out until the noise of it was ringing in his audios.

Prowl curved another smirk, mischief and satisfaction mingling together. "Might I remind you that I merely locked the door? I did not soundproof your office."

"Think this is funny, do ya?" Jazz chuckled, now determined to dish out his own mischief. He hands were already around Prowl's shoulders, in line with the most vulnerable place on the tactician's frame.

"Funny?" Prowl replied, arching an optic ridge. "Not at all. I find the positions we are in to be very... _electrifying_."

Another electromagnetic pulse detonated through Jazz's frame. This time he was better prepared for the sudden burst of searing pleasure. He felt the charge build up for all but a split second; hot and tingling where Prowl's palms pressed into the outer angles of his armour. He felt the release acutely, the moment of contact where Prowl's palms exchanged their charge with Jazz's armour. It raced through his neural circuits with wild abandon. The pleasure in it came from the brief scrambling of the electric signals between the circuits and his processor. A wild moment of instant pleasure that made him feel as if he were throbbing on the inside, hot and cold pulsing like a sparkbeat.

Not to take any kind of assault, not even a pleasurable one, lying down, Jazz was quick to retaliate. He dug his fingertips into the open crevices which connected Prowl's doorwings to his back. In the next moment, he charged the generators in his palms and unleashed an equally powerful pulse into his lover. The noise that came out of Prowl was low and abandoned, a reverberating noise that passed through him in one long, low wave while his frame arched in one smooth sensuous line.

It was Jazz's turn to smirk as he observed the brief look of abandon that possessed Prowl's features.

Wanting to see it again, Jazz shoved his claws deeper and unleashed a second pulse that nearly outdid what his generators could produce. The backlash of it reverberated up his arms, tingling with numb pleasure while Prowl writhed above him. There were no loud cries from the tactician. He was too well prepared for something like that; he had already adjusted his vocal processor to prevent it from vocalizing in a range that could be heard outside the office. Jazz chuckled lowly, strangely aroused by how well-prepared his lover always was. It made Prowl dependable and reliable; that rock-steady quality about him that had drawn Jazz to him in the first place.

Jazz also found himself aroused by the fact that Prowl's basic internal temperature was already above normal. It had been above normal even before the tactician had entered the room. It did not take a genius to understand that Prowl had been aroused by the idea of this little ruse; he had come to Jazz turned on, and had been clever enough to hide it for those first few moments.

In another bout of cleverness, Prowl's fingers wriggled beneath Jazz's armour to tease along the sensitized wires that were already tingling from the magnetic pulses. Pure sensation rocketed through Jazz's frame as the cool surface of Prowl's smooth fingertips played knowingly along the inside curve of his armour. Gentle touches, intimate touched; perfect touches given by someone who knew Jazz better than any other in the universe.

Those smart fingers fumbled as the one who owned them was startled to find smart little claws delving back into the crease between his doorwings. Tangling in the tension wires. Stroking along the sensitized circuits. While it could be said that Jazz might have been caught off guard at the outset of this interesting little meeting, he was nothing if not adaptable to every situation he found himself in. His own internal temperature started to rise, heating his energon until it simmered in his lines. He bent his legs to trap Prowl between his knees, forcing Prowl's weight firmer against him to feel every movement of the tactician's writhing.

Their foreheads pressed together, an equivalent of a human kiss.

"Ah still don't know what this is about, but Ah like it," Jazz laughed.

"You may like what comes next even more," Prowl replied huskily, grinding against Jazz's frame until hot sparks erupted from the friction. His dark fingers darted up to Jazz's interface panel tucked neatly into his shoulder. He circled it once with a light touch, releasing a magnetic pulse that popped the panel open instantly. Jazz hissed a low noise as a hot tingling sensation raced up his neck. Anticipation mounted while his lover circled the interface panel with a proprietary look, drawing out the cable to weave between his fingers.

Jazz very nearly flipped Prowl onto his back and took him then and there in a rush of violent passion.

Before the violent passion could be enacted, Prowl swiftly inserted Jazz's cable into the appropriate port exposed at the base of the tactician's neck. Prowl then withdrew his own cable and connected to Jazz. The slide of a cable's connector into an interface port was not normally an erotic thing, however, in this case, the universe could not have held a more erotic act that the slow, hot glide of smooth metal into Jazz's port, the electric awareness of another mind connecting to his own.

Moments later, they were falling into each other.

Their minds collided with a scalding clash, bringing insanity and arousal up against the inflamed excitement and devious intent. Prowl immediately pressed inward, touching everything and anything he came into contact with within the wild data streams that dominated Jazz's mind. There was never a discernible pattered to the wild storm which was Jazz's mind, and Prowl had long since learned that there was method to the madness and that he would not always understand it. For today, he embraced the insanity with devilish delight. He stroked the flames inside his lover until they were a throbbing blaze of want and need. An animal desire that flooded through their interfacial connection, infecting Prowl with it. He grunted, groaned, holding Jazz close while he played with the silver mech's senses.

Colours burst in front of their optics. Washes of hot and cold raced through them. Alerts appeared superimposed across their vision, warning them of the dangerous rise in their temperatures. Cooling fans whirred in their piteous attempts to keep heated systems from melting down. Coolant became a hot, wet glide through their frames, as thick and sensuous as honey. Their energon bubbled and burned.

Jazz found his faceplate clutched tightly between two shaking hands. As he writhed and arched across the floor, his gaze was drawn upward into two wildly flickering beacons of light. Swirling blue that was alive and intense and full of the deepest sense of love that it momentarily stunned the saboteur by the sheer violent force of it. They held that single consuming gaze over one long, agonizing eternity.

Prowl's mouthplates worked silently, opening and closing with grunting effort. It took several moments for his vocal processor to reinitialize.

Jazz reached up and framed Prowl's faceplate with his claws, bringing his lover down as close as they could fit to each other. Angles to contours, armour locking together in a complicated jigsaw puzzle not meant to be undone. Ribbons of blue light flickered between them. Evidence of their unrestrained passions for one another. Each lick of miniature lightning generated by the fervency of their sparks was pure ecstasy.

"_I love you!"_ Prowl finally managed to gasp, followed by him pressing the capacity of his love through their connection. It hit Jazz like a tidal wave. A wild, unquantifiable, all-encompassing tidal wave that dragged Jazz under its surf and washed him away. He let his mind be swept into the intensity of the love, returning it with a maelstrom of his own. They crashed together like forces of nature. Lightning literally flashed between them as they were finally overwhelmed.

Jazz was briefly blinded, arching backward until it seemed that only his head and heels touched the floor. A silent shriek lay poised on his mouthplates. His claws spasmed, digging into Prowl's armour until deep grooves appeared.

Prowl was likewise lost in the thrall of overloading, curling into Jazz's frame as if attempting to meld physically with him as well as mentally. The hands that held the sides of Jazz's faceplate clenched tightly, bring Jazz's forehead up to meet with Prowl's. They shared their last aching moments caught in the fury of their passions while caught in the intensity of each other's inescapable stares.

It was a decent while before either mech attempted moving. Prowl was the first to regain his senses, easing back with a groan. He sat up and disengaged his cable, politely ravelling it away. He then disengaged Jazz's cable and ravelled it away. Jazz watched from his position on his back, a position he failed to move from on account that his mind had just been blown and he had yet to regain his sense. The numb tingling feeling in all his extremities was still pleasantly present.

Prowl's expression returned to his normal mild facade.

"I hope that explains some pertinent aspects of our relationship," he said, moving to his feet and offering his hand to help Jazz stand.

"_Huh?"_ said Jazz, for once at a loss for words. He realized that his mouthplates were gaping a little. He allowed Prowl to take him by the hand and help him to his feet, which were surprisingly unsteady.

"I love you," announced Prowl, as straightforward and completely unromantic as one might expect from him, which was at complete odds with the way he had been gasping the words just moments before.

"Ah figured that much," Jazz laughed breathlessly.

"Good," breathed Prowl, squeezing Jazz's hand. "I did not want you to question the validity of our relationship because I refused to partake in the humans' ridiculous customs."

"Oh," replied Jazz, a little dumbly for his liking, but what could he do? He was a bit speechless at the moment.

Prowl pressed on. "Valentine's Day has no bearing on how much I value you as a friend, confidante, and lover. If I choose to show my affections for you, it will be at a time of _my_ choosing, without it being dictated by days arbitrarily selected by humans. I love you more than the boundaries of any silly holiday could ever allow me to show you."

"So..." ventured Jazz, leaning into Prowl's side with teasing affection. "Can Ah expect shows of your love like this more often?"

"No," Prowl replied flatly. "I was just making a point."

"Damn. Well, point taken, then," Jazz said with a roll of his optics.

The Prowl nodded, easing away to cross the room and pick up his discarded data pad. Jazz was satisfied to see the tactician's gait was not as steady as he might have liked it to be. While Prowl worked at the lock on the door, Jazz eased to his knees to begin picking up the mess Prowl had made of his floor. He glanced up as he heard the door hiss open.

"Hey," he called to the retreating back.

Prowl paused, glancing back at Jazz. "Yes?"

"Happy Valentine's Day, Prowl."

A wry smirk curved the tactician's mouthplates. "Happy Valentine's Day, Jazz."


End file.
